


Little Moments

by rainbowsandgucci



Category: One Direction
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I don't even know guys, M/M, Tears, This is honestly pointless but it's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsandgucci/pseuds/rainbowsandgucci
Summary: "Then, from the direction of the kitchen, comes the beautiful, melodic, sweet like honey voice of the love of his life. His fiance, his heart and soul, the man he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.“Fuck,fuck meshit shit shit, goddamn fucking oven.”Ah, it’s good to be home."Louis can't bake, and Harry's an absolute idiot in love.





	Little Moments

**Author's Note:**

> This tiny little mess that I totally spit out in an hour is completely dedicated to my lovely little group chat. Love you guys, come yell at me when you're done :)

Harry’s first thought, as he walks through his front door for the first time in a week and a half, is, ‘ _where’s the fire?_ ’

Because first he smells smoke, and then he _sees_ it; black, fucking thick as fog, and clouding up the entire entryway.

Then, from the direction of the kitchen, comes the beautiful, melodic, sweet like honey voice of the love of his life. His fiance, his heart and soul, the man he’s going to spend the rest of his life with.

“Fuck, _fuck me_ shit shit shit, god _damn fucking oven._ ”

Ah, it’s good to be home.

He slips his shoes off, drops his duffel bag on top of them, then heads in search of the disaster. As he gets closer to the kitchen, the smell of smoke gets stronger, and he can tell Louis is still swearing, though it's being muttered now instead of yelled at the poor oven.

When he rounds the corner into the kitchen, Louis’ back is to the doorway, which gives Harry a moment to take in the mess.

And. It is, a _mess_.

There are dirty dishes piled on pretty much every surface available: a bowl and at least three spatulas are on one counter, next to their similarly dirty kitchenaid, flour is spread on pretty much every surface -including on top of the stove-, and the island is laden with flour, sugar, milk, eggs, and other ingredients. The oven is open, on, and with smoke pouring out of it.

Harry’s eyebrows are raised, and he’s just turning his gaze back to Louis, when the man himself turns around.

He’s absolutely _covered_ in flour. It’s in his hair, on his cute little nose, all over his -Harry’s- shirt, and Harry’s pretty sure he’s even gotten some on his feet as well. Which, now that he looks at the floor, _yeah_ , that’s covered in flour as well.

It takes Louis a moment to notice Harry -he’s so worked up, Harry can just _tell_ -, and when he does, his mouth drops and his eyes widen.

“ _Harry_? What-”

He’s interrupted, because right at that moment, one of their fire alarms starts going off.

The shrill beeping startles him, and he jumps backwards, knocking the pan that Harry previously hadn’t noticed, straight onto the floor. He hops away from it, thankfully dodging the hot pan and the contents. He stares at it a couple seconds, then looks up at Harry, and gestures towards the fire alarm defeatedly.

“Haz could you-”

Harry nods his head, biting back the beginnings of a smile, then heads towards the fire alarm, that’s still fucking beeping. He gets the damn thing turned off, then turns back around to face Louis and-

His bottom lip is in his mouth, like he’s chewing on it, as he stares at the mess on the floor. Harry’s still fighting back a little bit of a laugh -he can’t _help_ it-, as he slowly starts to make his way towards Louis.

“Lou, darling, what’s going on?”

He’s going for joking, trying to make light of a situation he _knows_ Louis is going to take as a personal fault; but Louis looks up at him then, chewing on his bottom lip and his right hand clutching at his left bicep, and Harry knows it’s going to take more than a little joking to fix this.

Louis shrugs as he looks around the kitchen. “I was making, well, I was _trying_ to make a fucking birthday cake for you-” he gestures at the mess of a kitchen behind him, and sighs, “-because I didn’t want to have to buy one _again_ , like I always do, and I thought you were gonna be home tonight so I could have time to t-try….” His hands are fidgeting with the hem of his messy shirt, now, and then he sucks in a breath. “...and now you’re home fucking _early_ and the house is a mess, and I’m a mess, and the cake is _ruined_ because I’m a disaster, and….” He sniffles, obviously holding back tears, and Harry sighs, his heart absolutely melting as he makes his way over to his boy to pull him into his arms.

“Oh Lou, my _baby_.” 

As soon as he gets the last word out, Louis sobs, and practically throws himself into Harry, burying his face in his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist tightly. Harry holds him close, and starts rocking him back and forth, while pressing kisses to his forehead, the top of his head, and pretty much everywhere else he can reach. He’s still smiling as he does, but he’s trying _desperately_ to not let Louis see or feel the laughter he’s fighting back.

“Baby, honey, I love you so much. The fact that you even tried to bake me a cake is enough, you know that right?” Louis just shakes his head, and Harry starts rubbing his thumb across Louis’ hipbone through his shirt. “ _Lou_ how many times have you told me not to expect you to bake anything for me? Do you know how much it means to me that you wanted to do something you absolutely _loathe_ , just to make me happy?”

Louis lets out a little whimper, though his shoulders have stopped shaking, and Harry pulls back just slightly to look at him. His eyes are red rimmed, tear tracks making their way down his pretty little cheeks, and Harry brings his hands up to wipe away the remaining tears with his thumbs as he cradles his face gently.

“I love you sweetheart, so very much, thank you so much for baking me a cake.” He finishes off with a smile, because he just _can’t_ hold it back, not completely, and Louis sniffs again, though he’s beginning to smile a little now too, and Harry’s heart _soars_. God he’s so fucking gone. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Louis’ lips, and when he pulls away, Louis’ expression is calmer than it’s been since he walked into the house.

Louis’ grip on Harry has moved to the sides of his jacket, that he hadn’t had time to take off, and Harry loves just how small his hands feel. Loves how delicate Louis’ face is in his own large hands, and then Louis giggles, just a tiny bit, and he loves that too.

“You’re welcome, but you may not want to eat this one.”

Harry laughs giggles too, and glances over at the overturned mess on the floor. “You sure? I’ve always fancied my baked goods a little more done.”

Louis laughs, _actually_ laughs then, and yep. Harry’s amazing.

“You’re an absolute sap Harold, even you couldn’t pretend to enjoy that.”

Harry shrugs, and moves his hands down to Louis’ waist. “If you wanted me to, I’d do it.”

Louis stares up at him a moment, then all teasing leaves his expression, and he shakes his head. “I love you.” He buries his face in Harry’s chest again, and Harry wraps his arms around him again, a small, content smile on his face.

“Love you too, my sweet baby honey. You wanna go take a bath?”

Louis sighs, and nods. “ _Please_.” He looks up at Harry then, with a sly little grin on his face, and Harry feels a rush of heat spread through his body. “Then I can give you your birthday present.”

Harry groans, and grabs Louis’ hand, and begins pulling him towards the steps up to their bedroom, giggling like the teenagers they no longer are the entire way.

The mess in the kitchen is forgotten completely until nearly three hours later, when they come downstairs for a bottle of wine. Neither of them can really bring themselves to care though, not when they’re together, and definitely not when Harry gets to watch Louis get on his hands and knees to clean.

If they don’t actually get the kitchen clean until the next day, then that’s really nobody’s business.


End file.
